Dampen Down the Damsel Decibels in WTA Tennis
by Patricia Moloney Dugas
Freelance writer and Avid Sports Reporter in Palm Springs
Like many other societal failings these days, the WTA, for
whatever ungodly reason, has allowed the Women’s Tennis Tour to become a
hootin’, howlin’ cat fight. While this screech-fest is going on, the fans,
locked in their seats, are committed to absolute silence. Heaven forbid a child
should cut loose – play would be halted and they would be forced to remove the
annoyance post haste.
Because the WTA hasn’t had the chutzpah to step in and
regulate this decibel debacle, we, the tennis devotees, are instead subjected
to an unparalleled symphony of screams. Since
their screeching is deliberately, diabolically orchestrated, it becomes
necessary for the ladies to develop their own unique shriek – something with a matchless
wail to it. The required variance only
accentuates the silliness. Do they need a Shriek Coach? Where do they practice? If they should flub their screech on court,
is that like a blink in poker?
These athletes, appearing in teeny, tiny, tennis tutu’s,
belie the ferocity that burns in their barely covered bosoms and bottoms to
smash, crash, and annihilate the little yellow fuzzies.
I openly confess to having prayed for a bout of incurable laryngitis
to hit the locker-rooms. Nothing life
threatening, just painful – matching our eardrums. As I remember, Navratilova, Stephi, and Davenport,
had no need to bellow. They just won all their slams by focusing on strokes –
not shrieks.
As Sharipova’s career diminishes, her screech escalates. Protect your eardrums when her game goes to hell
in a ball basket. Her freneticism is
scary! I find myself relieved when she
loses – taking her designer tutu, haughty affectations, pony tail, and puppy back
to the airport. Sad commentary actually. Not like watching basketball where you
can lower the TV volume and turn on the radio to hear the game. (Don’t get me
started on college basketball!) Could we
also use clackers, horns, and whistles at tennis matches? Should we have the
right to verbally express ourselves.
Grunting has spread to the ATP men’s tour now but at least those
few who do grunt don’t rattle my nerve endings. More of a mellow bellow.
Bottom line here.
My email, license plate, and moniker is “Tennis Buff.” I play, watch, tape & DVR, photograph,
and attend everything. I even pay big
bucks for the Tennis Channel. In the
70’s, I was a paper cup away from Arthur Ashe at the U.S. Open at Longwood
Country Club in Brookline, Massachusetts. He would never dream of grunting,
even if he fell over the ball boys. Oh, such class! I even saw an 18 year-old curly haired kid
named McEnroe beat up someone there on a hot Wednesday afternoon with nary a
gasp.
I myself play with a Wilson Carbon Hyper-Hammer wide-body with
enough power to punch a hole in the green court screens. I started with a small wooden Slazenger bought
from my Aussie tennis coach. My elevation to the Hyper-Hammer is a testament to
my continued involvement in the game. Having
lived through the modernization of this grand ol’ lawn game, it is a joy to see
the women’s game come alive with these stunning, super hyper-racquets. They
have the power to intimidate, so they don’t need the sound effects. These
racquets give them voice enough. Are we
more likely to watch because the women have decided to screech? I don’t think so!
I no longer wake up at 2:00am here on the West Coast to
watch women’s tennis LIVE from the European tourneys. With one eye open, I
don’t want to listen to females screeching emanating from my giant stereo TV system
in the bedroom. Not in the middle of the
night. However, I will waken to watch
the men’s matches.
I don’t watch women’s tennis while I am working at my desk anymore. Sad. I
just check the scores. They could have stopped it way back when Monica Seles started
grunting. They did try to stop her, but backed down. Mustn’t offend the prima donnas. Tough luck for the fans nailed to their sport
cushions.
The most we can hope for at this stage of the game is that
the WTA will at least attempt to curb the annoyance. Is it too late to abolish something they have
already allowed to permeate the game? Like gun control, illegal immigration, and grunting,
by the time they legislate it, everyone will have amassed an arsenal – of guns,
green cards, grunts, groans, and bellows.
Deliver us.
Patricia Moloney Dugas
Freelance writer and sports reporter in Palm Springs, California, USA
Patricia Moloney Dugas
Freelance
Writer/Editor/Photographer, journalist, artist, sculptor
and Societal Tamperer, Twitter: @artrician
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